


queer in verona: ophelia

by inkstainedknitter



Series: queers in verona [2]
Category: Hamlet - Shakespeare, Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - 1950s, F/F, F/M, Queer Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-06 22:05:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1112040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkstainedknitter/pseuds/inkstainedknitter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ophelia's side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	queer in verona: ophelia

hamlet is the one loud spot in the middle of the storm that is his father’s death, that is the way her father never comes home anymore; no one comes home anymore. there is nothing but her and hamlet and the sound of the radio loud in the background of things that are not being said. laertes hides in the garage, tinkering with the motorbike he bought instead of going to university.

it’s the little rebellions that count.

when she is nothing but a little girl, ophelia crawls into laertes’ bed after every nightmare. he is still big enough to protect her from the monster at the back of her mind. in the morning, she is in her own bed again before anyone can catch her. he has always protected her like that.

father is an advisor to a very important man and that makes him a very important man, too. laertes drills this into her head after she comes home from school wearing the trophies of her fight. he washes her face and split lip, shows her how to get blood out of clothes, she never asks how he got so good at it, just knows that father is a very important man and they cannot make things more difficult.

she learns early on that father is a word for a distant figure. learns that mother is nothing but an awkward empty space that everyone tiptoes around. she turns the radio up and makes laertes explain his math homework to her when the space gets too big for her to breathe.

when hamlet goes mad, they say it is the grief, say he has always been a sensitive boy, says they should’ve seen this coming.

they are all liars.

ophelia leaves, then. nursing bruises from being slammed against the wall, a sprained wrist, a year of drowning in nothing but silence. laertes isn’t big enough to protect her from the monster in her mind anymore. father is not the word for a distant figure, it is the word for nonexistant. she runs, and doesn’t look back.

no one goes after her.

that’s a lie.

she finds work in verona, making bombs in a factory across the river from the city. keeps her head down, grows her hair out, falls asleep listening to the radio. the neighbours whisper about the number of people she brings back to her tiny apartment, the soldier boys looking for a little comfort, the factory girls with red handkerchiefs tied around their wrists like promises no one intends to keep.

she introduces juliet to the landlord as her cousin looking for a place to stay, juliet’s red handkerchief tied around ophelia’s wrist, ophelia’s lipstick on juliet’s lips.

they are both running from things. they fuck with the radio turned up loud so ophelia cannot hear the silence pounding on the door, begging to be remembered.

juliet is not the loud spot.

  
juliet is the storm.  
  
ophelia is so fucking grateful.


End file.
